


you always win (and i hate how i need you)

by rose_megan



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tags Subject to Change, ana doesn't exist shhhh, eventual buddie, hurt and eventual comfort, no beta we die like Philip and Margaret Buckley (hopefully), orthorexia, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29936049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_megan/pseuds/rose_megan
Summary: He’s not really sure what the first symptom was. Maybe it was re-downloading MyFitnessPal and obsessively counting calories and macros. Maybe it was spending an extra hour during his workouts or tacking on a five-mile run at the end of his days. He’s not entirely sure. He just knew that one day, he was right back in the middle of the eating disorder that nearly killed him, and it felt like he was drowning.ORBuck relapses into an eating disorder that nearly killed him.! Major trigger warnings !
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 154





	you always win (and i hate how i need you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. I've listed some trigger warnings in the notes and the summary, but just as a last resort here in case you missed it: heavy heavy trigger warning for eatings disorder behaviors. 
> 
> The title of this fic is taken from the song[ "Skin and Bones" by Marianas Trench](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKPkFHsWurs)

Buck isn’t quite sure exactly when his issues with food and exercise began. He knows he was a young teenager, maybe 13 or 14-years-old, when he began obsessing over running and going to the gym after school for two- or three-hour workouts. He was perhaps 15 years old when calorie counting and strict restrictions started. The internet had told him that a teenager his age should be eating around 2,000 calories per day, but that just seemed _so_ excessive – so he cut it down to 1,000. He made sure the calories he did eat were high in protein, complex carbs, and healthy fats so that he could build muscle, but the thought of having any more than 1,000 petrified him. It started as a diet, honestly, it did – he was a chubby pre-teen and he just wanted to lose that bit of stomach he had and wanted to build some muscle. But as time wore on, the fat melted off, and it became a fear more than it ever was a diet. He was truly terrified of gaining weight, of eating certain foods, of eating simple carbs or more than 1,000 calories.

He wasn’t oblivious or in denial. He knew he had an eating disorder. He knew his teachers and the few friends he had in high school probably knew too, but what could they do? If they told his parents, they apparently didn’t give a damn because graduation came and went with the eating disorder as active as ever. Looking back, he recognizes his parents were probably the trigger for his eating disorder. The way they treated him. They never really loved him, not like parents should anyway. They only ever tolerated him to the point that was required – they gave him a home and clothed him and fed him and sent him to school, but they never really loved him. He couldn’t make them love him; he couldn’t make them see him. The only thing that brought him any sort of happiness was the euphoria he experienced when he would look in the mirror and catch a glimpse of a muscle that looked a little bit bigger, or when he would be able to go to the gym and up the weight just a little bit more, or when he would come in under his calorie goal. Girls in high school paid attention to him, he actually got dates. They complimented him on his body, on his lean hips and muscled biceps, and it sent him to the fucking moon. That feeling? That happiness? He would chase that feeling for as long as he could.

It came to a head when he was working construction in Georgia. Of all the jobs he’d had along his journey up and down the east coast, that one had been the most physically demanding. The hours were long and the work was intense, and one day he collapsed on a job site. A short stay in the hospital and then a stint in a psychiatric unit helped and Buck began to unlearn the years of disordered eating he’d come to rely on. It was hard, and he had times where he relapsed, but he was ultimately proud of himself for getting out of the worst of it. The deep, dark depths of an eating disorder as bad as his was nearly enough to kill him, and he was just thankful he wasn’t there anymore. By the time he got to the fire academy, he was in the best shape he’d ever been in, physically and mentally. He finally wasn’t malnourished, he didn’t obsess over his image in the mirror anymore, he could go to the gym and workout for a perfectly normal and acceptable amount of time, and he could finally eat foods without the vice-like grip of fear around his heart every time he took a bite. Unfortunately, like many mental illnesses, eating disorders can come and go in waves, and all it took was a visit from his parents to send him spiraling again.

After his parents left in their RV, promising to return when Maddie had the baby, Buck put on this face of complete confidence. “Buck 3.0!” He said, “it’s time for a new me.” He’s not really sure what the first symptom was. Maybe it was re-downloading MyFitnessPal and obsessively counting calories and macros. Maybe it was spending an extra hour during his workouts or tacking on a five-mile run at the end of his days. He’s not entirely sure. He just knew that one day, he was right back in the middle of the eating disorder that nearly killed him, and it felt like he was drowning.

**

Eddie watched Buck stare into the fridge for what was at least two or three straight minutes. Literally, he just stood there motionless, hand gripping the handle, body hunched, staring at the contents, as if willing something to happen. Finally, he snapped up and closed the door, catching Eddie’s eyes before quickly looking away and sitting at the other end of the dining table from him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, very purposely avoiding Eddie’s gaze as he typed. Eddie just sighed and returned to the book in his hand, the letters jumbling together on the page in front of him as his thoughts ruminated in his head. Buck had definitely been acting strange recently – he spent an inordinate amount of time in the gym while at work, and he seemed to always have an excuse at mealtimes to not be with everyone. He had some chores he had to catch up or he “wasn’t that hungry anyway”. Sometimes, just as Bobby would be pulling dinner out of the oven, the alarm would ring, and Eddie would notice a look of pure relief pass over Buck’s face. Was he trying to avoid spending time with them?

“Buckaroo!” Chimney bounded up the stairs and made his way to the fridge, pulling out the makings for a sandwich and setting them on the counter. “And Edmundo!” He nodded his head to both men as he began to prepare his food.

“Hey Chim,” Eddie gave a quiet reply, watching Buck for his response. He didn’t say a word, and instead watched Chimney as he put his sandwich together.

“Do you want one?” Chim held the food up, extending it in Buck’s direction.

“Uhm, no,” Buck shook his head, swallowing hard and looking back down at his phone, “I’m not hungry.”

Chimney’s eyes flickered over to Eddie’s and they shared a look, which simultaneously made Eddie feel better and also terrified. He felt validated in his concern for his best friend, but also scared because – what the hell was going on that he wasn’t the only one noticing that something was up?

They couldn’t dwell on it for long as the alarm rang over their heads. Chimney groaned and dropped his sandwich down to the plate in front of him, only having been able to take a single bite. The three men rose and headed down the stairs, heading for their turnout gear and getting ready and in the rig quickly. Eddie watched as Buck settled into his seat, pulling a small pouch out of his pocket. He ripped the top off and raised it to his mouth, sucking whatever was inside it into his mouth.

“What in the hell are you eating Buck?” Hen’s voice sliced through Eddie’s thoughts.

“Oh, uh-” Buck cut himself off, glancing down at the small packet in his hand and back up at Hen, “I wasn’t hungry but this glucose gel stuff will make sure I have energy to, y’know, work.”

“Why don’t you just eat something small?” Chim piped up from beside him. “I don’t know Buck, that doesn’t seem healthy."

“Just leave it, okay?” Buck snapped, the echo of his words reverberating in the now-silent cabin. He jammed the empty packet of gel into his turnout coat pocket and then crossed his arms in front of him before turning to glare out the window. For the second time that afternoon, Chimney and Eddie exchanged a worried glance.

They reached the site of the emergency fairly quickly. Thankfully it was pretty uneventful, just a small garage fire and a homeowner with a nasty bump on his head from falling over trying to use the fire extinguisher. Buck and Eddie had the fire under control in a matter of minutes, Chim and Hen wrapping up with the patient just as they were finishing up. It was a few minutes later, as they were winding the hose back up that Eddie noticed Buck’s ragged breathing. He slowed his work and watched the other man. He was noticeably sweating and his arms were shaking as he rolled the hose he was working on. As Eddie looked closer, he realized Buck was _shivering_. It was a mild 60 degrees in the middle of the day, and he was cold? He dropped the hose he had stopped rolling to step toward Buck.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, trying not to draw attention to them, “Man, are you okay? You look a little sick.”

Buck’s weary eyes met Eddie’s concerned ones and he just nodded,

“yup, just really tired.” He gave a small shrug, “haven’t been sleeping the greatest recently, but I’m fine.”

“Buck-”

“Eddie.” His tone suddenly changed. It became low and dark, as if coming from somewhere deep inside his chest. His eyes were pleading yet insistent, “I said I’m fine. Please drop it.”

Everything in him told him to do the exact opposite of ‘drop it’, but he knew that he couldn’t push Buck. He couldn’t _make_ him open up to him. So, he just gave a nod and turned back to his task, the concern and fear he already felt for his best friend dialing up a notch. He was obviously sick with something. Someone doesn’t sweat _and_ shiver as if they’re cold (in 60-degree weather, no less) unless they’re ill, right?

By the time they were on the way back to the station Buck looked like he was dead on his feet. When they arrived, he was first off the truck, making a beeline for the showers. Eddie had half a mind to have a discussion with Bobby, but he knew Buck was sensitive to that kind of situation. Bringing Bobby into something like this could potentially push Buck even further away, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. However, he could talk to Chimney.

He found the man about thirty minutes later sitting at the table in the kitchen, finally eating his sandwich. He sat down across from him and looked around them, making sure they were relatively alone.

“Hello,” Chim spoke first, his mouth full of food.

“Hey,” Eddie replied, turning to face him, “I’m concerned about Buck.”

Chimney’s shoulders slumped, as if he was relieved to finally talk about it, “oh god, me too. Do you think he’s sick?”

“I don’t know!” Eddie stage whispered, running his hands over his face, “I tried talking to him at the last call, but he shut me down. Chim, he was sweating, but he was also shivering.”

“What? It was like, 60 degrees out.”

“I know.”

Silence fell between them for a moment before Chimney spoke again,  
“have you noticed he’s lost weight?”

“Has he?” Eddie furrowed his brow, thinking back over the last few weeks, trying to recall if Buck had in fact gotten thinner. A memory came to mind where Buck had asked to borrow a t-shirt of Eddie’s after a workout because he’d forgotten to bring a spare. He’d slipped into the black LAFD-branded shirt, and where it would normally have hugged his arms and shoulders, it was almost too loose. Eddie hadn’t thought much of it at the time – maybe the shirt had gotten stretched out or something.

“Damn,” Eddie breathed out, “yeah, he has” -a pause, and then- “god, Chim, what if he’s really sick?”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us though?” Chimney had abandoned his sandwich, a testament to how scared he was for his pseudo-little brother. “I don’t understand why he’d hide it.”

“I mean, come on it’s his pattern, right?” Eddie offered with a shrug, “pretend like everything’s fine, don’t be too needy.”

“Sacrifice himself for everyone else,” Chimney added with a sigh, “yeah, the asshole.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, “so what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Chimney picked at his food, “I could talk to Maddie?”

Eddie nodded with a hum of approval. That was probably their best option at that point. Involving Bobby could make Buck withdraw even further, but they had to figure out something. So Chim promised to speak to Maddie when they got off that evening and Eddie told him to keep him posted before he left to find the object of their concern. He first headed for the bunks, because surely, he’d be there resting, right? He looked like he was ready to crash for a few days when they got back earlier. To Eddie’s surprise, he found the room empty. He circled back around to the main floor and looked around, finding Buck restocking the ambulance.

“What are you doing?” Buck’s head jerked up at Eddie’s voice.

“What does it look like?”

Eddie paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and figure out what he wanted to say.

“I’m not trying to be a smartass, Buck,” he said carefully, “I’m just saying you seemed tired, I figured you could use some sleep.”

“Well, I don’t, so…” Buck trailed off, his back fully turned to Eddie now as he spoke. “Do you need something?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to come by tonight,” Eddie shrugged, “Chris hasn’t seen you in a while and he was asking about you.”

Buck stopped his movements at the mention of Christopher, his hands coming to rest in front of him. _That’s it_ , Eddie thought, _I got him_.

“Yeah, I guess,” Buck turned now, and Eddie got a good look at his features. His eyes looked like they were sunken in, with deep, dark circles underneath. His skin was pale with a splotch of red across both cheeks, and his hair, while it was normally soft and a bit fluffy, looked like it was thinning. His lips were torn apart from what looked like picking.

“Uhm,” Eddie cleared his throat, looking down at his feet to avoid staring and making Buck uncomfortable, “yeah, just whenever we get off, you can come by. Chris will have a movie picked out, I’m sure.”

“Sounds good.” Buck actually smiled at that, and the glance Eddie got of it before he turned back around made his heart break. Because it wasn’t a normal smile. It wasn’t a patented Buck Smile that would normally make Eddie’s stomach do a little flippy thing. It was just a small grin, a baring of teeth really, that maybe wanted to be a smile but perhaps forgot how to be.

**

Buck very much did not want to go to Eddie’s.

That’s a lie. He did want to go, because he wanted to see Christopher.

What’s true is that he didn’t want to dodge all of the incessant questions about how he was doing, was he okay, does he want to eat? Because frankly, he was tired of it. If he really thought his eating disorder was getting _that_ bad again, he would mention it to someone. But it wasn’t bad. Just annoying, really. He was managing.

So when he knocked on the door to the Diaz house ( _since when did he knock?_ ) the first thing he said to Eddie was, “I’m here to see Christopher and hang out, not field questions about whether I’m okay. I said I’m fine, alright?”

Eddie inhaled sharply, tucking his bottom lip into his mouth, as if he was fighting saying what he _really_ wanted to say, “I know, Buck.”

Satisfied, Buck entered the house and his demeanor seemed to completely shift upon seeing Christopher. He wasn’t 100% like himself, but his energy definitely changed as he picked up the 10-year-old to bring him into a big bear hug.

“Chris!” He hugged him tightly before putting him back on the ground, “I’ve missed you Bud, sorry we missed movie night last week, I wasn’t feeling well.”

“It’s okay Buck!” Chris, always understanding, hugged him tightly in return. “Do you want to play some Mario Kart with me while Dad finishes dinner?”

“Sounds like a plan, Superman.” Buck followed him into the living room, his arm resting along the boy’s shoulder as they walked. He sat on the couch while Chris readied the game, smiling as he watched him move about the room with ease. He was so much more independent now, and his confidence really showed through in how he carried himself.

“Okay,” Christopher climbed onto the couch next to Buck, handing him a controller, “remember, you can be anyone except Toad. I’m always Toad.”

“Oh, how could I forget?”

As they played, Buck could smell the spaghetti that Eddie was cooking that was wafting into the living room, and he was becoming more and more worried as time wore on. How would get out of it this time? The thought of eating something like that right now, when he hadn’t prepared himself for it and when he wasn’t due for any more food (he’d already eaten his allotted 1,000 calories that day) made his heart beat wildly in his chest. If he ate that food, he would be a failure. Everything he’d been doing so well with, like sticking with his diet and exercising, would go to waste. He didn’t want to feel that crushing sadness again. That feeling like he was out of control with everything in his life. Like he was repulsive.

“Bucky!” Christopher’s giggle broke through his thoughts. He looked down at the boy, who was grinning up at him. “Dad said dinner’s ready. Are you okay?”

“Yup!” Buck smiled, and he hoped it was convincing enough for the 10-year-old to believe. By the way he just shrugged and stood to grab his crutches told him it was. The Diaz’s were already seated at the table before Buck stood up, swallowing hard before walking into the room with them.

“I don’t know if I’m very hungry,” he stated quietly, rubbing a shaking hand across the back of his neck. He looked anywhere but Eddie’s face, which contorted into one of deep concern. His mouth turned down in a frown and his brows furrowed and Buck found himself staring at the floor as he awaited a response.

“Come on Buck,” Christopher spoke first, “it’s my favorite, I want you to have some with me!”

“Just a little, Buck.” Eddie’s words were achingly gentle, almost pleading. Had he not been standing in front of the two of them, Buck would have probably broke down crying at them. Instead, he gave a small nod and pulled the chair out, slinking into it with ease as he suppressed the tears that threatened to spring up. He kept his eyes downcast as Eddie served him a portion of spaghetti that almost made him laugh. It was gigantic, at least 800 or 900 calories worth. There was no way in hell he was eating all of that. To top it off, Christopher reached over and plopped a piece of garlic bread on to his plate with a, “here ya go!” Buck glanced up at him and couldn’t help but grin. He’d already taken a bite of his food, and so he had sauce smeared across his face in true messy, Christopher fashion.

“I love you, Chris,” Buck spoke softly and looked back down at his plate.

And that’s what he kept telling himself. He could survive just a little bit of food for his Diaz boys. He loved them endlessly. Both of them. He and Eddie had danced around some sort of _something_ for a long while now, and honestly Buck just figured it was a matter of finding the right time to take that final step. He figured they had time. They’d get there. But right then, at the table, the only thing Buck could focus on was the spaghetti in front him, almost taunting him. The mound of simple carbs covered in a sugary sauce with a side of even more carbs. The only thing on the table he could consume without panic bubbling up in his throat was water, so he grabbed the bottle that had been placed at his setting and opened it. He took a long swig before placing it back on the surface in front of him, wiping the stray bit of liquid that dripped down his lip.

Damn it, he didn’t want to eat anything.

“Buck?” He looked up at Chris and saw the concern on his face that matched his dad’s, and it sent a pang of hurt through Buck’s chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat, “like I said, I’m not too hungry. But I’ll eat just a little bit.”

He picked up the fork beside the plate and twirled the spaghetti, getting a small portion on his fork before raising it to his mouth with a shaking hand. He was about to put it in his mouth when he noticed the silence.

“Okay, we don’t all need to watch Buck eat.” He meant to sound lighthearted, joking even, but it came out more strained and uneven. Eddie must have picked up on Buck’s anxiety, because he tapped his foot under the table, a gentle ‘ _I got you_ ’, before asking Chris about some project at school. The conversation at the table now alive, and the focus decidedly not on Buck, he managed to shovel approximately four bites of the pasta into his mouth before he put the fork down. His stomach was churning, either from fullness or from stress, he wasn’t sure, but Eddie seemed satisfied that he at least ate a little bit. He told Buck and Christopher to go pick out a movie while he cleared the table, so the two made their way into the living and Buck just nodded along as Chris began cycling through options on Disney+.

It wasn’t even an hour into Monsters University that Christopher had fallen asleep against his dad’s arm at one end of the couch, his glasses crooked on his face and drool falling from his mouth. Buck was laying against the opposite arm of the couch, his legs brought up crisscross underneath him, as he stared at the TV screen. He hadn’t really been paying any attention. All he could think about was the pit in his stomach, reminding him of all the food in there that he shouldn’t have eaten. He picked at the skin around his fingernails as the thoughts bombarded him, one after the other, incessant – _you fucking failure. You can’t even do this right. Too full. Too much. So much. Too full. Why did you eat so much? You’re repulsive. You think Eddie actually cares about you? You think anyone cares about you? That’s a joke. You can’t do this one thing right, and you expect people to care? Always too much. Too much. Too full. Too much._

_Too much._

_Too much._

_Too much._

Buck suddenly jumped up from the couch, panic once again rising in his chest. Eddie’s head snapped over at him, his arm instinctively gripping Christopher a little tighter.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low.

“Y-yeah,” though Buck shook his head, “I mean, no. Yes. I mean,” he paused, exhaling, “I just have to use the bathroom.”

With that, he retreated down the hallway, slinking through the half open door before closing it gently and flipping on the light. He paced in front of the toilet, feeling sweat gather on his forehead. His stomach was still churning and it felt like its contents were trying to force their way back out of Buck’s mouth.

And that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

He hadn’t made himself throw up recently. If he’s being honest, he didn’t even purge all that often when he was in midst of the worst of it. But times like right then? When the food that he’d eaten weighed heavy like a brick in his gut? The panic clawing at his throat made him desperate. So he reached over and turned on the overhead fan, turned on the tap, and sank to his knees in front of the bowl.

**

Eddie watched Buck basically run to the bathroom and he felt something tug at his heart – fear, perhaps. Concern. Worry. Whatever it was, it made his entire body clench in anxiety, so he slowly extricated himself from Christopher’s hold and stood up before leaning down to pick him up. Thankfully, he barely stirred, so he carried him to his room and tucked him in, making sure he was fully asleep before leaving the room. He crossed the hallway to the bathroom and was about to knock when he heard noises from the other side. He put an ear a bit closer to the door and over what sounded like the tap running and the whirring of the fan were the unmistakable sounds of someone retching. He rapped lightly on the wood, more as a courtesy than anything else, and turned the knob. He sighed in relief that it was unlocked and pushed the door open to reveal Buck hunched over the toilet, vomiting into the bowl.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie rushed forward, kneeling beside him and resting a hand on his back, “I got you, you’re alright.”

Buck finished throwing up and fell back on his heels, sweat, snot, and a little bit of vomit all running down his face. Eddie reached on to the counter next to him for a hand towel and began gently wiping him clean, not waiting for him to refuse.

“I got you,” he repeated his promise, “I’m here Buck.”

Buck just hummed, his eyes closed, one hand still gripping the toilet bowl and the other now holding on to Eddie’s wrist. He looked ghastly. Absolutely ragged. The face he’d seen earlier at the firehouse, the sunken eyes and the chapped lips, that was nothing compared to the figure in front of him now.

“Buck,” Eddie put the towel down and grabbed both of Buck’s hands, “Evan. Please, let me help you. Are you sick? Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Eds-” Buck shook his head, and Eddie gripped his hands tighter, rubbing gentle circles into his skin with his thumbs. The moment was impossibly intimate. Perhaps too intimate, because Buck suddenly shook his head and pulled his hands away.

“Eds,” he repeated, “I’m sorry.”

He rose to his feet, a little unsteadily, and left the room. Eddie quickly followed him out to the living room, watching as he slipped his shoes on and reached for his keys.

“Buck, please-”

“Eddie,” Buck’s crying now, the tears shining in his eyes, “I can’t do this right now. I just can’t.”

They stood there a moment, Buck’s hand on the handle of the front door and Eddie standing at the end of the hallway, staring at each other. Eddie felt like Buck was slipping through his fingers and there wasn’t a damn thing he could about it.

“I’m sorry.”

And he was gone. 

**

Buck didn’t come to work the next day. At first, Eddie thought he hadn’t been scheduled. That happens sometimes, that their shifts don’t line up with each other and they have to work with a B shift firefighter. But when he asked Bobby about it, he told him that Buck had called in, said he needed a “mental health day”. Bobby didn’t read too much into it – everyone needs those once in a while, especially when you have the kind of job they do – but it made Eddie’s heart drop. He simply nodded to his captain and turned on his heel to find Chimney. Hopefully he had some news from Maddie.

“Chim!” Eddie spotted him coming out of the locker room straightening out his uniform shirt. He looked up, his face falling as he saw Eddie’s own expression. He just nodded back behind him and the pair entered the locker room, looking around to ensure they were alone.

“What’s up?” Chimney asked him with a sigh, “I’m assuming this is about Buck not being in today?”

“Chim, it’s bad,” Eddie’s voice shook, more than he wanted it to, and Chimney definitely noticed. “He came over last night, he looked so sick. He ate like, three bites of food, and he was throwing up right after dinner.”

Chimney exhaled, falling back on to the bench. Eddie took to pacing in front of him, one arm wrapping in front of him and the other rubbing against his chin.

“Maddie hasn’t heard from him,” Chim offered, “she has no idea what’s up. I told her what we’ve noticed and now she’s convinced he has leukemia.”

“Like Daniel?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie looked at the ceiling, willing the lump in his throat to go back down. The thought of Buck having something like _cancer_ was just too much right then. Way too much.

“Isn’t that something you get as a kid though?” Eddie turned to face Chimney, his arms crossed now, “I mean, Buck’s nearly 30, what 30-year-old gets leukemia?”

“A lot, according to the statistics Maddie found last night.”

“Fuck.”

**

Buck was feeling a little better. Taking the day off the day before was helpful; he was able to rest and spread out his calories throughout the day so he felt a little fuller than he normally would have if he was working. He tried to put the events at Eddie’s house out of his mind. The pained expression on Eddie’s face, the way it looked like he was aching for Buck to talk to him, to tell him what was wrong, it was just too much. He almost broke. He almost broke down right then and told him everything. But he just couldn’t. How could he? He’d spent so much time over the past couple of years just being a burden to everyone in his life, how could he drop this on them now too?

He couldn’t. So he could handle it. Maybe he’ll call Dr. Copeland and fill her in on things. He hadn’t made any of his appointments lately. The last few he’d had, he canceled, and he just kind of never scheduled new ones. He’d gotten a couple of emails and a text from her, but he always ignored them. He should give her a call.

Buck attempted to forget about it for now as he exited his jeep, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He had a 12 hour shift ahead of him and dwelling on whether or not he should call his therapist wasn’t how he wanted to start it.

“Hey.” Eddie materialized beside him, cutting around the corner of the jeep, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He seemed scared; cautious. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” came Buck’s clipped reply. He _certainly_ didn’t have the energy for this today.

“Good.” Eddie matched pace beside him as they walked toward the station. “I just wanted to say that I’m here Buck,” he stopped him, grabbing his shoulder to turn him toward him, “whatever it is, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Buck just swallowed, giving a nod before shrugging out of Eddie’s hold and turning to enter the station. He had arrived early so he could work out before his shift actually started, so after storing his bag in his locker, he made his way to the gym and began his usual 45-minute run on the treadmill. As he ran, he realized he’d forgotten his water, which was becoming increasingly noticeable as his mouth and throat felt like they were closing up they were so dry. But he pushed on, telling himself he could have the water when he finished the run. He tried to focus on the steady beat of whatever song was playing on the workout playlist he’d chosen on Spotify and the feeling of his feet hitting the moving track beneath him. Where his arms at first were at his sides, pumping in rhythm with his legs, he then reached out and gripped the bar in front of him. He almost felt dizzy, but surely, he was just a little bit overheated. He only had another 12 minutes to go, and then he would be able to have his water.

It turned out 12 minutes is a damn long time. He watched each second tick down on the machine, begging for it to _just go faster_. His heart was hammering in his chest, stuttering every few beats, and he could feel the sweat gathering at his hairline begin to drip down his forehead.

_Just ten more minutes._

_Just a little more. You have to do it Evan. You’re worthless if you can’t just do this one thing. Can’t you do this one thing right? Why is it so hard? Why isn’t it easier for you? You’re supposed to be this “big tough fireman”, but you don’t seem so tough right now. Practically crying because you have to run for a few minutes. Pathetic._

He couldn’t shake the thoughts this time. He couldn’t stop the thudding of his heart, the clouding of his vision, or the feeling of oxygen leaving his lungs. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it anymore. The next thing he knew, the world was black.

**Author's Note:**

> Oof! Thanks for reading! This fic is actually kind of hard for me to write, as I am personally in recovery from an ED, but I really wanted to write it because I felt like it would turn out pretty good, and I also felt like it could be cathartic. It has been so far!
> 
> Many thanks to the wonderful people on the Talk Buddie To Me Server (ask me about it!) for all their help and support!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr!](certifiedbuddietrash.tumblr.com)


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